


Ten hours to midnight

by BlueRacoonSoul



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Annoyed Mycroft Holmes, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious John Watson, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overprotective Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson in Love, Sherlock solving crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:18:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRacoonSoul/pseuds/BlueRacoonSoul
Summary: The plot starts right after "The Abominable Bride", after Sherlock leaves the plane.





	

**10.**

Sherlock hasn’t said a single word since they left the airport. He seems to be utterly unbothered by Moriarty’s, (or more correctly: his underhanded tricks’) sudden comeback, but John knows better. He has an honour to call himself Sherlock’s best friend, and although it is an incredibly rare privilege, it comes with a price; a sacrifice, even. Because Sherlock Holmes, as enigmatic and eccentric as he can be, is also vulnerable and emotional, no matter how hard he tries to hide or deny it. He only lets his true feelings come to the surface in time of utter panic; not before someone he holds dear finds himself in an immediate danger. Unfortunately, this “someone” usually happens to be John, and although he hasn’t understood it for the first couple of such incidents, he knows it know. He must be Sherlock’s dearest friend, if not his only friend, because dr. Watson seems to be only one who has witnessed the full spectrum of the detective’s emotions whilst everybody else seems to assume Sherlock simply hasn’t gotten any.

Either way, John knows better now. He knows exactly when Sherlock struggles to hide his feelings: When troubled, the detective usually stimulates one of his deep-thinking processes in his mind palace, pretending not to register every single movement around him, when his mind is, in fact, abnormally hyperaware. This is when he starts to get nervous and tries to outrun the world in a desperate need to keep his friend safe.  
It truly upsets John. He wishes Holmes would take a better care of himself, or at least think of himself a little bit more often. After all, he is the usual target in every supervillain’s country-destroying evil plan and for obvious reasons, wants to get rid of him, John is never actually a target himself - he just happens to sniff troubles on his own.  
And yet, the doctor knows exactly what is going on in Sherlock’s head – he surely already has at least five different theories of what Moriarty’s eventual plan may be and for every of these theories, there is probably at least ten different outcomes and now, he tries to prevent each one of them without risking anybody’s safety. John knows Sherlock often says he’s not an angel nor a hero, yet here he is: sleep deprived, forgetting to eat, angry and so desperate to surpass a megalomaniac criminal mastermind. Although, John supposes his best friend is probably also a _tiny_ bit excited – Sherlock could never back down from a challenge and an adventure. That’s what makes him so unique. 

Eventually, the silence begins to bother John, but he doesn’t know what to say, either. Mary’s eyes are fixed on the road before them, and her hands seem to hold the wheel a little bit too hard, for her knuckles have turned white. She hasn’t spoken neither, and it suddenly occurs to John that she seemed to be utterly moved with Moriarty’s come back, although he died before he has even met her. The doctor inhales sharply when his mind unwillingly replays Sherlock’s fall all over again; it is much worse than the war itself.  
“I am not planning on jumping off a building again.” said Holmes, still without moving his face from the car’s window. A couple of years ago, John would stare at him disbelievingly, wondering how is it possible to tell what he is thinking about without even looking in his direction, but those times are over now. Today, John stares at him angrily instead.  
“Oh what, I’m sorry, did you actually plan it last time? Thank you, it’s such a relief to know you don’t _plan_ to leave me again for another two years!” he yells at the review mirror. Watson won’t risk it to turn around to look at Sherlock’s face – he doesn’t trust himself to not punch him in the face.  
“I told you I tried to save you. What else do you want?”  
“I want you alive.”  
“I am alive. Always was.”  
“Good.”  
They don’t speak until they arrive at Baker Street, when Sherlock leaves the car with a loud slam of the door and proceeds to walk towards number 221B without bothering to wait. John turns around to Mary, ready to address his frustration with his friend, but all he sees is a roll of her eyes. 

**9.**

“This is what happens when you try to leave Baker Street, dear.” says Mrs Hudson, setting a silver tray with a teapot and a half dozen cups on the table. Sherlock looks up from his computer screen with a confused gaze.  
“England falls.” She finishes with a warm smile and wanders out to the kitchen again, humming happily to herself when she opens a cupboard after cupboard trying – and failing miserably - to find some biscuits. It makes him smile. Although he would never admit it aloud, it is nice to hear someone is glad to have him around, without reminding him constantly about how heartless and destructive he is. He feels John’s eyes fixed on him from a few feet away, so he turns his attention back to the computer screen.  
“Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?”  
The words float around his mind, annoyingly unhelpful. Apparently, one short manipulation is enough to frighten the entire country, with Mycroft and Lestrade in the forefront. Fortunately, it is also enough to withdrawn his exile, and that is all he needs for now. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true – he might need something else, something more, but since he can’t have it, he must accept what life brings him. Isn’t what John usually says in such circumstances?  
“Did you miss me?”  
  
Sherlock sighs and closes his laptop. There is absolutely nothing he can make out of this video, he may as well stop re-watching it. It starts to make him nauseous anyway.  
“Well?” John asks, still watching him from his beloved armchair. He sits comfortably, with his head resting on its bolster and a vaporous cup of tea sat carefully on the floor. He always does it – there is a perfectly good coffee table by his side, and Sherlock has even cleaned up a bookstand that is placed on the other side, close enough for John to reach out. Yet, the blonde man faithfully ignores any kind of furniture they both possess, not caring about its purpose either; he sometimes sits on a table, cupboards or mentioned bookstand, tosses his clothes on the floor, and uses a pile books as a footrest. It is such a typical _John_ thing that Sherlock catches himself being annoyed when someone else does it. He throws himself dramatically onto his own armchair.  
“Not enough data.” Sherlock answers and closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere around them. Well, maybe it is far from what most people would call “peaceful”, considering the circumstances, but it is a rare moment alone with John; both Mycroft and Lestrade are digging around in files back at their headquarters, trying to find anything they could use in the case, and Mary is off God-knows-where. In moments like these, Sherlock likes to pretend she doesn’t exist, and that John still lives with him.  
Apparently, John enjoys it too, judging by his content sigh.  
“What did you want to tell me? Back at the airport?” John asks suddenly, and Sherlock feels his blood running away from his cheeks.  
“I told you, Sherlock is actually a girl’s name.” The detective answers, doing his best to sound casually. He faked it all the way through the entire wedding, he can as well fake it now. John chuckles warmly, which makes him feel even stranger.  
“No, no. I am serious, Sherlock. What did you want to tell me?”  
Holmes opens his eyes to look John in the face, and all he sees is a genuine curiosity. His stomach drops and his heart skips a bit when he catches a warm and patient sparkle in John’s eyes. He knows he isn’t going to keep John to himself; he now has a wife and soon a daughter, he will eventually disappear from his life anyway. He might as well tell him; otherwise, it will surely kill him from inside one day. Hell, it _will_ kill him either way.  
Sherlock repositions himself in his chair, trying – and failing – to control his heartbeat, and opens his mouth to speak, but before he utters a word, his phone beeps.  
The detective breathes out, wondering if John notices how nervous he is, and glances at the screen to buy himself a few more seconds before he inevitably destroys his friendship with John Watson.  
  
However, he forgets completely what he was about to say when he reads the SMS.

 

“Did you miss me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you enjoy the intro chapter? Are you willing to read some more? :) Maybe you don't like it? Or maybe you spotted a mistake? Either way, please let me know - every kind of feedback is truly appreciated.


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